Hands
by mewlingquimlover
Summary: Finding pleasure inside someone else body is something Felicity never thought she would endure. Nor enjoy.


Anonymous said (prompt): Arrow olicity genderswap

* * *

Stuff like this doesn't happen in real life. It shouldn't happen.

But since Oliver has walked into her life with bad lies and promises of expensive wines everything has changed. Things that shouldn't be real are now a part of her everyday life. And this one by far, is the biggest and point blank the most fucked up.

Her eyes adjusted, blinking and then stretching wide open. Her finger tips trailed tentatively at first and now harder against a strong jaw with stubble's of dirty blonde hair pricking her skin. She was Oliver, she was in his body with his dark green leather on and all.

"This cannot be happening?!" She tells herself, but it's his voice that slaps her back in the face. Yet she hears herself inside her head, her soft female voice, not his male laced one. She looks at the full length mirror in the corner of her bedroom, scared to touch it. "Maybe it will shatter and then wake me up. This has to be a dream!" She tells herself, keeping her chatter inside her head for once and not out loud. She doesn't want to hear his voice again, just hers.

She pokes at the mirror, quickly jerking her hand back but nothing happens. She does it again and it feels real. Way too real.

Reality sets inside her and she clamps her mouth shut with both her now larger hands.

"Fuck." She grunts out, dropping those callused fingers back to her sides.

They had been exposed to something, an explosion in another crazy bad guy's lab. She remembered stumbling out with one arm wrapped around Oliver and Diggle nearly running over them with the car, a sloppy escape in a hasty manner.

She remembered stiff arms straddling her body from behind, guiding her into her apartment and then the soft feel of her mattress. Her body sinking into it and total blackness took over.

"Cold water … I need cold water. Lots of it." She tells herself, determined to wake herself up from this nightmare.

Walking into her bathroom she quickly turns on the cold shower and she catches sight of herself again in the vanity mirror. She stops and just stares at herself, her finger trailing over the front of his leather top half.

"Should I? Will it help?" She debates inside her head, her eyes shut tight and she undresses in a hurry. It's a blur to her between that moment and stepping into the shower, the cold water now hitting her skin. She stands there, waiting for the moment that will send her jolting awake in her bed, in her body.

But it doesn't come.

"Hot water … let's try hot water." She lectures herself, praying and hoping at the same time it will work.

Twisting the knob to the hot side, she stands there and waits. She waits for it to heat up and it's slow and agonizing. It's not fast enough and she hisses to herself. Her head tilting down with intentions of glaring at the tub floor but that is not what catches her attention.

Her mouth falls open with no words falling out. And just as quickly she snaps her eye lids shut, fighting the urge in her hand … well, his hand, to touch it.

The water is finally heating up a little more, but not hot enough.

She feels weird and she is smart enough to know why. "Fuck it, it's my damn dream." She hisses to herself and with floating bravery inside her veins she grips her length. And fuck it feels real as hell. She looks down, watching those thick fingers squeeze the hardening flesh.

Testing the physical pleasure of it, she squeezes tighter and finds it's amazing. She guides her hand up the length, feels the harden muscle and every vein that is possible. Slowly, tightly, and deliciously she moves her hand down. Her thumb guiding her fingers and finding the rough press of it over the swollen mushroom head is elicit.

Her eyes snap shut and she turns her body, leaning her back against the shower wall. Forgetting the original goal, cold shower, wake up from dream.

Oh no, now it's something different.

The speed of her hand changes, quickening and her mind drifts to a place where it's Oliver doing wicked things to her. She thinks of him with his face buried between her legs. Of her with her legs draped over his shoulders while she takes everything he has to offer.

Suddenly the need to feel everything consumes her, her other hand testing the weight of his balls. Moving them, closing her fingers around them and adding a slight pressure to them. She wants to bring small moments of pain into this pleasure.

It's wicked and delicious.

She strokes his cock faster, squeezes the velvet flesh and feels everything exploding now. Every nerve sparks alive, every pulse thumps harder and every bit of pleasure that is humanly possible is driven from it.

From this act, until it's dripping down between her fingers.

She looks down at her hands, threads of white painting them before the water washes it away. She is tempted though, a spot left on one finger and before the water can chase it away she brings it to her lips and sucks on it.

* * *

Felicity jolts awake, her body trembling but feeling stated. She notes the change of the mattress, feeling the added weight on it she looks to her side. Oliver is there, in his uniform and she still in her clothes with a very embarrassing heat moving between her legs. Everything is damp and she knows whys.

She leans over and kisses Oliver on the forehead before heading to the shower.


End file.
